<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Gilded Wolf by MarigoldVance</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793116">The Gilded Wolf</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance'>MarigoldVance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - The Witcher, Alternate Universe - Variation of Arda, Insinuation of Sex Acts, M/M, Mage!Kíli, Prompt Fill, Violence, WinterFRE2020, Witcher!Fíli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:55:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/pseuds/MarigoldVance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli hasn't sought Kíli out since their last meeting for multiple reasons. The most prominent of those being that it seems they're destined to meet no matter how much distance Fíli puts between them ...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GatheringFiKi - Winter FRE 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Gilded Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for the prompt(s): </p><p> <i>120. FiKi - The Witcher AU (One exists to kill monsters and is not supposed to have feelings. The other is a mage playing a dangerous game)</i></p><p> <br/><b>AND</b> </p><p> <br/><i>69. A/B/O dynamics</i></p><p> </p><p>∞</p><p> <br/><span class="small"><b>FAIR WARNING</b>: i have taken elements from <i>The Witcher</i> (i've seen the Netflix series; never played the games or read the books) and threw them in a cauldron with Tolkien's Arda, stirred them together and sprinkled in my own perception and interpretation of certain monsters and ghoulies and whatnot. so. this isn't accurate to any 'verse ... </span></p><p> <span class="small"><b>ALSO</b>: the <i>Alpha/Omega</i> in this isn't very prominent. it does what it has to but isn't the focus of this series. and yes. it's a series now. because Muses 🙄 </span></p><p> <span class="small">thank you!</span></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Fíli felt the black in the veins under his eyes recede as he wrenched his blade from the limp, revolting carcass of the bruxa. When the silver slipped free, the bruxa’s shape heaved and contorted, distending into its partially decomposed natural form, enormous and batlike, shedding the skin and bones of the young woman it had used to disguise itself. The fetor of it fumed like smoke from its body, churning Fíli’s stomach.</p><p> </p><p>He probably didn’t fare any better.</p><p> </p><p>Hauling the dead bruxa over his shoulders and securing it with firm hands, Fíli heaved himself to the road and began the short trek to Bree. The innkeeper had promised a reasonable sum for the bruxa’s killing and Fíli needed the coin.</p><p> </p><p>An hour or so later, the gate came into view through the dark and the heavy rain. Panting from exertion, Fíli straightened and allowed the slain creature to drop to the ground with a thump. The guard peeked through the window in the gate, snarling his questions when he realized Fíli’s feline-yellow eyes, a testament to what Fíli was. Fíli answered calmly and nodded toward the putrid heap a few paces behind him, asked politely for entrance which he was only granted when another guard shoved the first out of the way in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>            “She dead then?” The second guard asked, shocked. “Didn’t think it was possible.” He regarded Fíli for a moment and cleared his throat, “Then again … ”</p><p> </p><p>Fíli didn’t smirk but the slight curl of his lips was close enough. The first guard unlatched the bolts and opened the gate, ushering Fíli through after Fíli dragged the bruxa onto his back once more. Fíli nodded his thanks and trudged his way through the muck and mud to The Prancing Pony where his payment was waiting.    </p><p> </p><p>∞</p><p> </p><p>Their emotions were extracted when they were made, considered a hindrance for the battleblessed monsterslayers that were Witchers, released into the world with their weapons and simple combat magic. Fíli was no exception, just as much an abomination as the rest of them, fashioned to slaughter inhuman foes for a fee. Unlike the handful he came up with however, Fíli was something <em>even greater</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Once, generations before his, Witchers were plucked from their mothers’ arms when they displayed the telltale signs of an Alpha-to-be. Only Alphas, with their better instincts and innate physical prowess, could withstand the kind of training required to produce a capable Witcher.</p><p> </p><p>While not all Alphas had become Witchers, all Witchers had been Alphas. There had been countless of them, packs who had undergone ruthless procedures and graduated from the rituals beneath the grounds of Kaer Morhen, an old keep disguised by spells and hidden deep in the cradle of the Walls of the Sun.</p><p> </p><p>Then evolution – or perhaps fear – had seen to the recession of Alpha blood, taking with it the existence of omega mates who were born specifically for an Alpha to fuck, to claim, to <em>breed</em>. (Sometimes, seldomly, Fíli wondered if there had been an omega delivered into the world as a result of his birth. A woman forged by the universe who fit him perfectly as it was said omega mates were designed to do.)</p><p> </p><p>In Fíli’s time, human boys were put to the unmerciful conditioning it took to make a Witcher. Three out of ten survived. Of those, perhaps a handful remained in all Arda; some felled by the very things they were hired to slay, others hunted by mobs driven by a rage warped from ignorance and fear.  </p><p> </p><p>Fíli was a relic of an age that had thrived on belief more than fact, who now roved a continent that both shunned and had use for him.</p><p> </p><p>∞</p><p>           </p><p>Candles flickered in the draft that filtered through the gaps in the wood of the shambly shutters. The room was stuffy despite the prickling cold outside and stank of a rigorous coupling. Lounged on the bed, head in the pillow of his brawny arms, thin ratty cover draped over his lower half as a signal that he was gratifyingly spent, Fíli attempted to enjoy the afterglow cradled in the comfort of the first mattress he’d felt under him in months.   </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, he’d been forced to tolerate his bedmate’s yammering on for almost an hour. He didn’t mind her too much; she was attractive – glossy black hair and strange eyes, soft milky skin and a tight cunt. She brought him wine and food and cleaned him with warm water, rubbed him down with oils and brushed his hair.</p><p> </p><p>He visited her whenever he passed through Bree and tipped her outrageously which was why she didn’t banish him from her bed immediately following the act as she did with the other men who paid her to open her legs for them.</p><p> </p><p>Moira’s only shortcoming, in Fíli’s opinion, was that she wouldn’t <em>shut. up.</em></p><p> </p><p>            “— not really sure why you bothered coming back this way, now we’ve got a mage n’ all.” She rambled, untangling her hair with her fingers. She was still shamelessly nude, breasts bare and sweat-sticky, posturing herself to Fíli, inviting another round that he wouldn’t volunteer. Although he did consider shoving his cock down her throat just to see if she would swallow her diatribe along with it.  </p><p> </p><p><em>Wait</em>.</p><p> </p><p>            “Mage?” He asked, turning his head to grace Moira with an expression of subtle curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>            “Yeah,” Moira nodded with enthusiasm, excited that Fíli was showing interest in the conversation. “Up one of the ol’ merchants’ house. Fat shit still lives there, lets this mage stay with him. Not for free, I wouldn’t think.” She cackled. “Folks say this mage was helping local men – yanno – <em>get things working again</em>.” She leaned in conspiratorially and winked, pointing to her crotch, “<em>Down there</em>. No one’s said that’s what the mage is doing for the bastard but – ”</p><p> </p><p>Fíli returned his gaze to the twiggy cracks in the ceiling and let Moira’s words list over him. He wasn’t interested in the bedsport of old men nor how their withered cocks functioned – or failed to – and how a mage went about remedying those issues. But he had to wonder, not for the first time in four years, if he’d crossed paths with the magic-wielder he hadn't decided if he could stand to see again.</p><p> </p><p>But Kíli had saved his life as much as he'd ruined it.</p><p> </p><p>∞</p><p> </p><p>When Fíli had met Kíli, the world had gone sideways.</p><p> </p><p>In the middle of a confrontation, stained with the slick-slimy translucent blood of a wraith, Fíli had been struck momentarily blind by the tease of woodsmoke beneath the concentrated smell of loam and wet bark. The wraith had taken advantage of his distraction and had pierced his chest, clutched its bony fingers around his heart and <em>squeezed</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The scent had become overwhelming in its nearness as who it belonged to sprinted out from wherever they’d been hidden. Fíli had clenched his jaw and wheezed and had dredged up enough strength to reach behind him and pull the aspen stake from his waistband. He’d struggled, loosing a scream as the wraith’s whetted fingertips dug the promise of death into the still-beating muscle. With the aspen stake freed, Fíli had released it weakly, heard it clatter on the stone beside him.</p><p> </p><p>All Fíli could do then was hope it was enough of a hint for the idiot willing to show themselves when a wraith was mid-meal. Thank all the gods, the idiot had understood. The scent had flooded Fíli’s senses and clouded his mind from the pain when its owner had dived under the wraiths outstretched arm, attached at the hand to Fíli’s heart, and had gathered the aspen stake, risen to their feet and surged forward toward the crypt in one swift, elegant motion.</p><p> </p><p>Fíli’s eyes had begun to water, his face twisted in agony, his lungs taking no air. He had been on the brink of death when, finally, the wraith snapped into nonexistence in a dustcloud of black reek. The skeleton hand in Fíli’s chest had vanished as soon as the wraith’s body had been staked yet, attempting to recover, his heart had beat too erratically, stung behind Fíli’s ribs and shot bites down his right arm.  </p><p> </p><p>He’d been caught, slumped in a firm embrace, his head held where he could taste the source of that all-consuming scent in the back of his throat when he’d breathed. Fíli had heard whispered chants in Elder Speech into his hair before he’d slowly succumbed to the lazy euphoria of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>When he’d awoken, the scent less full-bodied in his pores, Fíli was introduced to the sight of the idiot who’d saved him. He was handsome and charming, his edges intense and his voice smooth wine; a mage with no allegiance and no desire to work for anyone but himself. It had been his miscast spell which had summoned the wraith from hell and he had been <em>very sorry</em> that Fíli had found himself in the middle of the catastrophe, <em>but I had it handled, there was no need for you to involve yourself!</em></p><p> </p><p>Fíli had grunted, tried to sit up and had been immediately forced down.</p><p> </p><p>            “What do you call yourself, Witcher?” The mage had asked as he’d rubbed a paste over the tenderness that had lingered on Fíli’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>            “Fíli. Of Erebor. And you, wizard? What is your name?”</p><p> </p><p>The mage had gently tucked Fíli’s hair behind his ear and brushed the backs of featherlight fingers along Fíli’s jaw. Leaned in close, the mage had mumbled what Fíli had recognized as an enchantment for dreaming. As Fíli had drifted again, he’d heard the mage’s answer:</p><p> </p><p>            “<em>Kíli</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>When Fíli had again swam to consciousness sometime later, he’d been alone and missing all his belongings but for his sword.</p><p> </p><p>∞</p><p> </p><p>Come morning, Fíli decided against visiting Merchants Row in favor of following the Baranduin River north to the Hills of Evendim. Kíli was self-sufficient and clever and, if he <em>was</em> the mage Moira had mentioned, whatever he was doing, Fíli most certainly didn’t want to get involved.</p><p> </p><p>Twice already Kíli had conjured Fíli’s death. Furthermore, the third time they’d crashed into each other resulted in—<em>something </em>that echoed in Fíli’s dreams. As a mutant made not to feel, what those dreams rustled in Fíli was disconcerting.</p><p> </p><p>He made his way down the crooked stairs of the inn and into the main room and glanced around for a table in the corner where he’d take his breakfast. As soon as he saw one however, Fíli smelt it, subtle and crisp. He tried to huff away the daze that guttered at the edge of his vision as he stood to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Fíli turned his attention to the bar, let his gaze travel past three unkempt patrons with scruffy beards and stained clothes to the last stool where a familiar figure was perched, wrapped in a cloak of fine cloth, cradling a flagon and beckoning Fíli with a smile that, to anyone observing, would seem friendly but that Fíli was aware, behind its innocence, was devious and wicked.</p><p> </p><p>            “Hello, Fíli.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing the cheek and coyness in that tone, Fíli knew that this fourth encounter was destined to cause Fíli as much strife as the first three.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck his bastard luck</em>.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small">so this'll be continued next weekend or the week after. i have practically the <b>entire</b> second part finished since most of it was supposed to be THIS STORY but the Story said <i>nah thanks</i> and here we are ... </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">plus, a massive thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkIdeas/pseuds/PatchworkIdeas">PatchworkIdeas</a> for letting me ramble while i tried to figure out how i wanted to go about this XD</span></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>